


A perfection that weighs more than the past

by Decemberdaisies



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: AU, Abuse, Angst, Anorexia, Ballet, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, Eddie needs a hug, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, It never happened, M/M, Reddie, dance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-02 15:10:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19443991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decemberdaisies/pseuds/Decemberdaisies
Summary: Dance is Eddies life, and he thinks the death of him. But what if it doesn’t have to be?TW for eating disorders and abuse.





	1. Heavy

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another ED Fic. I’m not sorry.

January, 1989

13-year-old Edward Kaspbrak stood in his home studio, one hand on the bar, his legs in first position. Mama wanted to check his turn out. She stalked around him, her face emotionless. He thought he might be in the clear, he thought maybe- *WACK* she struck him hard on the thigh with her thin, long ruler. “We talked about this Edward” she said, her voice dangerously calm and even. “Your lines are ruined, come here” 

she led him into the bathroom where she pulled out their scale from under the counter. 

The scale was perhaps one of the nicest things they owned. She wanted something accurate, the only other things she’s splurged on like she did for the scale were either ballet related or alcohol related. “Get on” Eddies breath hitched and he swears his heart stopped beating. 

101 pounds 

Two more than last week. 

Eddie refused to meet Sonia’s eye. 

Sonia inhaled deeply, dangerously. “In life, Edward, we must make choices. Good or bad, wrong or right, pieces of cake or a future with a company.” Eddie just nodded. Sonia didn’t avert her gaze from the side of his face. “I want five pounds gone by next week. Then she left.

March, 1995 

Eddie is plopped in front of the TV set in a split, his elbows rested on the floor, flipping through a discount dance supply catalog when he heard the front door open. “Hey Eddie.” It was just Stan, his roommate. Thank god. It was around midnight and the last time someone had come in unannounced it was their neighbors, drunk and making out. The locks on the doors were shit and Eddie was convinced that everyone basically had a master key if it was that easy to get into someone else’s apartment. 

“Oh hey Stan, I thought you were already home.” Stan shook his head. “Nah, I got some drinks with a friend.” Eddie smirked up at him. “Oh ‘drinks with a friend’ huh?” Eddie could practically hear Stan rolling his eyes. “Yes. Just a friend. His names Richie, we were friends in high school. He was at the studio today, turns out he’s on the costume design team for Romeo and Juliet.” Romeo and Juliet, A.K.A the thing that has been making Eddies life hell for the past three months. Just before casting, Eddie had been made principal and of course was cast as Romeo. There was no denying he was the best in the company. 

Stan had been cast in the ensemble. It didn’t bother him much though, less focus on him meant less stress on him. “I want you to meet him, I’m sure you two will get along.” Eddie could read between the lines. Stan always pestered him about getting out there, making friends outside of the company. “Okay.” 

“Hey did you eat? I was thinking of making something.” Stan asked from the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge. “No, I’m trying to cut a little weight.” Stan stopped rummaging. “Eddie-“ Stan hated when Eddie tried to ‘cut a little weight’ it made him worried. The kid was tiny. “Just a few pounds, Stan. Just until the show is over.” Eddie says that every time. But it never is just until the shows over. It never is just a few pounds. Stan knows. 

“I’m going to bed. Night Stan.” 

“Night.” 

——————————————-

Eddies alarm went off at 4:15 the next morning. An hour earlier than it normally would if he didn’t have extra weight to lose. He started with coffee. Black coffee, then stretching, then a 5K. This had been his routine for the past month or so. Ever since Vic Criss had made some snide comment about how maybe he should get his measurements from double checked. Stan had told him Vic was just jealous that he wasn’t made principal. 

Eddie was finished before Stan even woke up. Eddie figured he should go get him. It was already 6:45 and they had to be in the studio by 8:00. He decided to take a shower first though, Stanley could wait. 

About five minutes into Eddies shower, Stan started banging on the door. “Eddie you better get your ass out of there, I’m not taking another cold shower!” Eddie smirked and turned up the temperature of the water. “Just a moment, dear” he dang back to him. Eddie took his time shampooing, conditioning and shaving. He took even longer with his after shower routine of various moisturizers and makeup. Not enough to be super noticeable, just enough to make him feel pretty. At 7:35, he finally let Stanley in the bathroom. “You dick!” Stan yelled at him. Didn’t matter though, Eddie was already out the door.


	2. When a grimace looks like a smile and vice verse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie meets Richie.

“Eddie, come here a sec.” 

It was Beverly Marsh, she had been cast as Juliet. It was no surprise, she’s gorgeous, graceful, tiny. “Yeah sure, Bev. Gimme a sec.” He threw his dance bag on a chair and jogged over to where she was stretching. “You alright? You’ve been looking tired lately.” Eddie shrugged and smiled at her. “Yeah, I’ve just been getting up earlier, going to sleep later. You know performance season.” She shook her head, concern evident in her blue eyes. That was Bev for you, maybe it was growing up without a mother (and with an excuse for a father) she had to become her own parent, and Eddies too apparently. 

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a protein bar and threw it at him. Eddie checked the label and grimaced. If the 300 calories weren’t already bad enough, the sugar content was insane. Sugar was a big no for Eddie during performance season. Sugar (his brain called it sugar, his body called it sugar, his mouth called it saw dust) was the root of his little problem when he was younger according to mama. Cake or a future with a company. Cookies or a career. He smiled apologetically and shook his head, throwing it back to her. 

“Don’t tell me your doing this shit again Eddie.” She deadpanned. “Look Bev, just a few pounds. I could afford to lose it.” It’s not like last time. Beverly opened her mouth to say something, but Eddie was already leaving. He couldnt afford to lose it and deep down he knew that. Just like last time, but for now, he needed to stretch. It’s not like last time. Just a few pounds, ten at the most. It’s not like last time. 

“Hey Eddie!” He heard the distinct sound of Stans crackling voice. It’s like the guy never quite finished puberty. “Hey Stan.” Stan had a guy next to him, must be Richie. The kid looked out of place in a ballet studio. Hell he probably looked out of place everywhere. He had this messy dark hair, and massive coke bottle glasses that made his eyes look like they belonged on a bug or alien or something. To top it all off he wore this atrocious Hawaiian shirt over a black flag T shit. This dude was supposed to be on costume design? The kid smiled at him, all his crooked teeth on show. “This is Richie, the guy I told you about last night.” Richie stuck his hand out and Eddie shook it hesitantly. This kid may be goofy looking, but god he was thin. Eddie never felt totally okay around thin people. Thin people like Vic, and Patrick, and most of Stans god awful ex girlfriends and boyfriends. Now this Richie. 

“Nice to meet you, Richie.” Eddies discomfort was obvious. It wasn’t obvious that it was towards Richie, it could have been a plethora of things. But Stan knew. Richies smile grew wider, Eddie didn’t even think that was possible. “Pleasures all mine” he said. Eddie smiled weakly. “I think Im gonna step out for a second.” He made a b-line for the door. Why did this shit make him feel this way? It’s just a person. It’s just how his body looks. It shouldn’t make him this upset and he knows it. But it does. 

He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his sweatshirt and lit one. smoking sucked. It smelled horrible and it certainly wasn’t good for his asthma, but it calmed him down. Brought him back to earth, and it was great for times like these when he couldn’t exactly eat. With enough nicotine in his system, it wasn’t just that he couldn’t eat. He didn’t want to either. Everything made him feel sick. Bread felt like cement going down. Sugar tasted like battery acid. Anything too spongy or too dense or too salty or too hotcoldthickliquidygreasy was enough to make him gag. 

The door opened and hot air from the building hit his skin instantly, giving him momentary pleasure before it was gone again and he was stuck with his face burning from the cold. “Hey.” He looked up and saw Richie standing there with that same smile on his face. Like too much sunshine and shitty beer in the summer. The kid smiled like he was drunk. “Oh, hi.” Eddie replied. Richie pulled out his own cigarette. “So Stan said it would be fine with you but I don’t want to step on your boundaries. I can’t afford my hotel so he said I could stay at your apartment until the shows over. Is that alright with you?” No. “Yeah of course.” Richie smiled fucking again. God, does he have any other facial expressions?

There was something about Eddie that Richie just liked. An aura about him. Not to mention his cheekbones could cut someone.

“Should dancers really be smoking? Gotta keep those lungs at full capacity right?” Eddie laughed. “I don’t do it often. Just stressed about the show I guess.” Richie shook his head. “Why would you be stressed? You’re so badass. Stan showed me some videos of past shows. You’re amazing.” Probably videos from last year. Eddie was tiny last year, everything looks cleaner and better when you’re that small. “Thanks man.” Richie nodded and the air fell silent. “Hey” Richie said. “You wanna get something to eat after you’re done with practice. Eddie shrugged indifferently. “Yeah sure. There’s this bar by my apartment. We could go there.” 

“Sounds great!” That smile was back. 

Sure, Richie found it strange that Eddie would want to go to a bar for dinner, but aren’t all dancers a little strange? Richie didn’t care though. Eddie was sweet, and he was damn cute. 

Eddie went back inside, they had to rehearse for the balcony scene. “Don’t fucking drop me, Kaspbrak.” Bev whispered in his ear before the music started. That was the thing about his diet. Made lifting hard, and Bev may have been small, but Eddie was smaller even if he couldn’t see it. The number had to be perfect, if it wasn’t, his role would be given to Patrick, and hell would have to freeze over before Eddie let that happen. All it would do is prove his mom that she was right. 

He and Patrick had grown up together, they never liked each other, but that didn’t mean they didn’t pay attention to each other. Not at all. Patrick was always just a little thinner, a little lighter on his feet, a little better than Eddie. But now Eddie was principal. Eddie was Romeo. Patrick is just another reason to keep going. 

Eddie didn’t drop Bev, thank god. He didn’t trip or stumble or any of it. But it was obvious he wasn’t at 100%. 

———————————————————

After practice, He went to chance back into his street clothes. Looking in the mirror, he noticed his bones were more prominent, especially his ribs. He smiled, it wasn’t enough but it was something. “You know you’ll get cut if they find out about this.” 

He turned around to see Patrick smiling with all his tiny little shark teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Patrick stalked up behind him, wrapping two massive, calloused hands around his rib cage. “I’m taking about this.” He said, digging sharp, yellow nails into the spaces between his ribs. “You’ve dropped a lot of weight recently, Kaspbrak. Why is that?” His eyes were piercing and his smile was perhaps the most unsettling thing Eddie had ever seen. “Shut up.” Patrick shook his head. 

“Anorexia is nothing to mess around with. You know that, Eddie. What was his name? Georgie was it? He was just a kid. What was he? 15? Yeah you know it well.” Eddie shut his eyes tight.

“I don’t have anorexia.” 

“If the company found out...”

“I don’t have anorexia.” 

“I could keep quiet” 

“I don’t have fucking anorexia.” 

“Oh come on, Kaspbrak. Everyone knows a pretty little boy like you ain’t worth nothin more than his mouth. If you’re not gonna be decent enough to put food into it.” 

Eddie nodded. 

It was fine as long as he was winning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day (kinda) cause technically it’s 4:00 AM right now so it’s the next day but who cares. I’m productive.


	3. Impaired judgement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That is so fucked up, Eddie.”

Disgust. That’s what he felt. No, it was more than disgust. His hands on Patrick’s thighs and his mouth where he knows it should never be. 

It’s not like this is a new thing, but Eddie knows Patrick doesn’t make empty threats, and if he got Eddie cut, then Patrick was next in line for principal and Romeo and every single lead role after that that Eddie had worked so hard for. So he does it because he has to win.

“Swallow” 

Eddie made sickly growling noise of anger and disgust and hatred and spit right on Patrick’s shoes. 

“Hmm I should have known. What is exactly the calorie content of cum, Eddie?” 

Eddie stood up with more force than he thought he had in his diminished form, threw his shirt on, and left. Left Patrick there smiling like some fucking demonic shark creature, and if you asked Eddie, he would say that’s a perfectly accurate description of how Patrick looks all the time. 

5:00PM seemed quieter than usual. Colder too. Assuming Richie would be back at his apartment he walked there, even though he really would have liked to get a cup of coffee, but he’s already going for drinks with Richie. He hadn’t eaten for 37 hours so he figured it was okay to have a few shots of vodka tonight. That is if mike was working tonight, which he probably wasn’t, because if not, then going to the bar was out of question given that he was was only 19. 

His apartment was warm. Eddie had budgeted out his minimal paycheck strategically so he could keep the thermostat at 72 instead of 67 which was a good decision considering how cold he was all the time. Sure enough, Richie was sitting on his couch watching some sit com. “Oh, hey Richie.” Richie turned to look at him and his face lit up. “Hi Eddie!” 

Eddie took off his jacket and threw it over an arm chair. “So about the bar, I don’t actually know if we can go. I’m pretty sure mike doesn’t work on Thursday’s and he’s the only one who lets me buy alcohol.” Richie laughed. “That’s alright Eddie, I came prepared. I assumed you weren’t 21, I’m not either.” Richie walked over to the kitchen and reemerged with a bottle of vodka bigger than his head. “Swiped this from some kid at the studio. He had it right there in his bag, just sticking out. Think his name was Bower or something.” It was Eddies turn to smile. “Henry Bowers. Usually I would scold someone for stealing, but Bowers is a dick, so I’m not too mad” 

They spent the night getting drunk and trading childhood stories. Eddie talked about how in high school, He knew this kid named Bill who one time, got high at school and maybe a little too brave and punched Patrick (a fellow dancer, and the reason Eddie slept with the lights on for 3 months straight when he was 14, Eddie explained) square in the jaw for kicking over his bike. His bike of all things. looking back on it, Bill shouldn’t have gotten so upset, it was a childishly dick move, but it was nice to see that purple bruise on Patrick’s rat face the next day. 

Richie told Eddie that honestly, he couldn’t design, or sew for shit. He mostly just bullshitted his way into getting jobs and let everyone else do the work. He really wanted to be stand up comedian. 

It was around 11:00PM when Richie noticed that they hadn’t eaten anything. “Dude I’m sorry, I totally forgot about dinner. I can make something really quick?” 

Eddie thought he had been in the clear. He couldn’t eat around Richie, not when Richie was that thin and he was, well, him. It’s fine though. He can just say he’s not hungry, it’s not like Richie can make him eat. He’s his own damn person, and he makes the rules about when and what he eats! 

“I’m not hungry, but help yourself to anything in the kitchen.” Richie looked confused. How could he not be hungry? He danced for hours and probably hadn’t eaten since lunch. Did he eat lunch? He didn’t see Eddie eat at the studio and that was really the only opportunity he would have had. 

“Really? Dancing is strenuous work, I would assume. You should probably eat” Eddie shook his head. “Nah, I’m really just not hungry. The thought of food is making me feel a little sick right now, honestly.” 

Richie shrugged his shoulders. Like he said before, dancers are weird. “Whatever you say, man.” 

Richie was saying something about how he would kill for a grilled cheese but Eddie wasn’t listening. All he could think about were the calories in that vodka. He knew, logically, it was barely any. That didn’t stop that all too familiar state of self-loathing to overtake his thoughts, though. Alcohol always did that to him. 

“I’m gonna piss. I’ll be right back” he told Richie. Eddie could swear up and down that this bathroom knew his name with the amount of time he spent in there just looking. 

Sometimes he wonders if he’ll ever stop caring, but he knew that old habits never really die. And this was less of a habit, more of a way of life. In the back of his mind he wonders if Richie might have an eating disorder. No, he doesn’t. His soul seems too light for that, but maybe. 

He stared into the mirror, picking apart his own body. His stomach certainly looks less flat than it did this morning, his gaze drifted to the toilet. No. This is not like last time, he’s okay now. He’s better. It’s just a diet. Just a few pounds. He flushed the toilet to make it seem like he was actually pissing and turned to faucet on to “wash his hands” 

When he went back to the living room, Richie was eating a very un-grilled cheese. “Didn’t feel like waiting for it to cook” he laughed when Eddie looks at him for maybe just a little too long. Often time bulimics eat large amounts of food very quickly, not caring what it is that they’re eating. Not being able to wait for a grilled cheese seems pretty rushed...  
Richie doesn’t have bulimia. This is not what he’s thinking about right now.  
He is, however, thinking about taking another shot of vodka 

That shot was certainly one too many, the next one probably was too. He had only had three and a half shots total that night, but when you’re 5’6 and haven’t eaten in almost 2 days, alcohol hits you a little harder. Next thing he knows, he’s on the floor, laughing uncontrollably, slung over Richie is every different direction possible, with his hand in a box of cereal. 

“Oh god, I’m gonna get sooo faaatt.” And he’s serious but he can’t stop laughing and he didn’t even mean to say it but Richie is laughing too so he’s probably okay. “I don’t even think that’s possible for you, Eds. You can’t get fat. You’re like a little, uh, a little mouse.” Richie says like he’s proud of himself for coming up with such a wonderful comparison.” Eddie shook his head. “No no no, it’s sooo possible. Happens all the time. Fuckin it’s happening right now. I am fat.” 

For something that genuinely bothers Eddie so much, it seemed like the funniest thing in the world. Richie stopped laughing for a minute, but he was still smiling like an idiot. “Oh my god, that’s totally why you didn’t eat dinner! You think you’re fat!” And he’s back to laughing. Eddie nodded and smiled up at him. Richie just shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

“That is so fucked up, Eddie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey y’all I have a BIG crush and she likes me back and I’m happy but also it’s someone I met in treatment so like is this a good idea? Probably not. But when have I ever had good ideas.


End file.
